


on and off again

by takeabyte



Category: World Trigger (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Love/Hate, M/M, Relationship Study, bc why not, first chapter is porn and second chapter is feelings, relationship study masquerading as porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22893271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeabyte/pseuds/takeabyte
Summary: Kageura and Inukai don’t take anything from each other, but, y’know. Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.
Relationships: Inukai Sumiharu/Kageura Masato
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Eyes closed and breath catching, Masato runs through the list of reasons he really,  _ really _ doesn’t like Inukai Sumiharu.

Number one (in no particular order): he’s always smiling. 

This is annoying enough already, but Masato has the misfortune of having an empathic side effect, so when Inukai’s emotions and expressions don’t line up, he feels it twice as keenly. The bastard’s always smiling, even when he’s pissed off at Masato for any number of offences. Insulting his unit. Stealing his food. Trashing his homework. 

(So maybe Masato goes out of his way to annoy Inukai. Sue him.)

Inukai’s smiling, even as he sucks a hickey into Masato’s neck. He’s smiling, even when he has Masato pressed up against a wall, fingers deftly undoing the catch in Masato’s pants. He’s smiling, even as he dips his fingers beneath the band of Masato’s underwear. 

God, Masato  _ hates _ him.

He voices this. “I hate you,” he growls, trying desperately to keep this fact in mind as he feels the heat pool in his belly. 

Inukai just laughs in response. Masato can at least take some satisfaction in how rough his voice sounds, even though he’s not the one being touched. They’re both horrifically good at winding each other up. It’s even footing, or something like that. Maybe it would be if Masato was still composed enough to  _ smile, _ or make any expression that wasn’t a heated grimace.

Maybe it’s just his fault, for letting Inukai get to him like this.

“You hate the guy who’s about to suck your dick?” Inukai asks conversationally, and  _ god _ , does Masato hate him. Masato is the callous one, the blunt one, the one who doesn’t bother with picking and choosing his words. Hearing Inukai talk so casually about this makes his skin crawl. 

Masato gives a wordless growl, and Inukai laughs again.

“Does that turn you on, hm?” he wonders. His hand has retreated slightly, now absentmindedly tracing the band of Masato’s briefs, as if this conversation is somehow more important to maintain. “Are you into that, Kageura?”

Reason number two: Inukai doesn’t know when to shut up. 

He’s always talking, the casual lilt of his voice belying how absolutely noxious the things he said could be. It’s one thing that Inukai seems to love the sound of his own voice, and another thing altogether that everything he says is the most awful thing Masato’s ever heard. 

He doesn’t know why he ever let Inukai start this. This line of questioning has to be the most libido-killing venture ever, but all Masato feels is even more frustrated, even more wound up. 

“Says more about you that you’re still going to do it,” he snaps, out of lack of anything else to say. Inukai is probably right, but it’s not like Masato cares enough to interrogate his urges like that. He feels what he feels. Even when the subject of said feelings is the worst person he’s ever met.

Inukai grins, and before Masato can quite process what’s happening, he’s on his knees.

“What are you talking about,” Inukai croons, looking up at Masato with that awful smile and wide, faux-innocent eyes, “I like you  _ perfectly _ well,”

It’s a lie. It’s an absolute fucking lie, because Masato can  _ feel _ the cocktail of animosity and lust and affection and irritation that Inukai projects towards him, the feeling as heady and biting as a shot of alcohol. It brings the same buzz with it as well, which is what Masato uses to justify letting Inukai drag him into any corner and do as he pleases. In these moments, the way Inukai feels, and the way he makes Masato feel, is nothing but intoxicating, exhilarating.

Before Masato can retort, however, Inukai mouths at his dick, still covered in his underwear. 

The breath leaves Masato all in one go.

He hates Inukai. There are reasons. So many reasons. As he struggles to breathe, he tries to remind himself of these. 

Number… number three: Inukai is unbelievably, unfairly, unashamedly gorgeous. 

Looking at him makes things twist up in Masato’s gut, things like lust and want and scorn because nobody should  _ ever  _ be allowed to look at that. Nobody should ever be able to walk into a room and make Masato  _ burn. _ And if it isn’t bad enough that Inukai’s stunning on a normal day, Masato doesn’t think he can name a better sight than the one of Inukai Sumiharu on his knees. Not with how his eyes seem wider and bluer, and his smile seems coyer and sharper, and especially not with how, despite everything, he looks like he has the control. 

He kisses Masato again through the fabric, and it’s _ maddening,  _ it’s suffocating, the way he’s being restricted. He can’t breathe. Inukai is the prettiest thing Masato’s ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and he is on his knees, about to take his dick, and still in control of the situation. Masato, for a brief and hysterical moment, almost considers giving in. Letting Inukai have his way and do whatever it is he wants.

Then, Inukai leans back and fixes Masato with a look. Masato almost— _ almost _ —whines in desperation at the loss of pressure against his dick. Only almost. He may consider it at times, but Masato’s never going to reach the point where he actually gives way to Inukai’s… well, Inukai’s  _ everything. _ He would rather die than do that.

Inukai smiles up at him, looking surprisingly sweet, and says, “You know, it kind of hurts my feelings to know that you hate me. After all I’ve done for you,”

Masato doesn’t know where he finds it, but somehow he musters up the self-control to  _ not _ kick Inukai in the head. It’s a near thing. He’s so fucking wound up and so, so utterly hard and even looking at Inukai’s face pisses him off and he cannot fucking believe Inukai is doing this right now.

“Can you shut up for one fucking second?” he snaps, fists clenched against the wall behind him.

Inukai leans forward and licks up Masato’s dick, still in his fucking underwear, and smiles. Masato can’t stop the low groan that escapes him.

Then,  _ mouth still directly against Masato’s dick, _ Inukai speaks. He murmurs, “I’m just saying, Kageura. You’re awfully rude to somebody who is always  _ so nice _ to you,”

Masato feels every fucking movement, every fucking vibration and articulation and flick of tongue. He gasps. He can’t stop himself from jerking towards Inukai slightly, small, half-aborted movements that have jackass motherfuckering  _ tease _ smiling even more. 

Masato is so desperate for stimulation and so desperate to never be in the same room as Inukai again. He’s closer than he’s ever been to begging and he feels like he’s on fire and Inukai is humming against his dick and when Inukai finally finally  _ finally _ pulls down his underwear and swallows down his dick, Masato’s mind whites out.

There’s only one thing in his head. It’s the fourth, the final, the biggest and the most condemning reason that he hates Inukai.

Reason number four: Masato might kind of be in love with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Inukai’s cleaning himself up in the bathroom, dabbing at the parts of his makeup that had gotten smeared and humming to himself. It’s weirdly domestic, watching him do this.

Masato doesn’t really know why he’s still here. Usually, he’s happy enough to leave Inukai to his bathroom rituals; sometimes, Inukai will even tell him to fuck off for one reason or another. Today, though, he finds himself sitting on the bathroom counter and watching Inukai work, and Inukai seems happy for him to do so.

Masato wrinkles his nose as he watches Inukai line the edges of his lips. He doesn’t like how it tastes, sometimes, when he’s kissing Inukai. He doesn’t really get makeup at all. He doesn’t like admitting it or even acknowledging it, but Inukai’s already ridiculously good looking. There’s no need for the makeup. 

Masato thinks it makes Inukai look like a doll. Almost like he’s putting on a porcelain mask, and the fucker already does that enough personality-wise.

Inukai, halfway through smoothing lipstick over his mouth, pauses.

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something,” he comments casually, before going back to applying the makeup. He doesn’t even look at Masato. Dickhead.

Masato huffs in response. “Just about how stupid you look with makeup on,”

That makes Inukai look, like Masato knew it would. Inukai’s so fucking  _ vain. _ He can’t brush off an insult to his appearance. Something like that deserves his full attention.

Inukai moves the tub of lipstick away from his face as he turns to frown at Masato. Half-done like that, the red on his lips doesn’t actually look bad. It’s all rough and patchy. Asking to be smeared.

“Fuck you,” Inukai says, mouth shaping the words clearly. Masato watches his lips move, his tongue flicker in and out between his teeth. “I look great,”

Masato wants to lean in and mess it up again, just to fuck with Inukai, but he knows that Inukai would probably knee him in the dick. He looks away.

“You look like a doll,” he mutters. 

“You know, from anybody else, that would be a compliment,” Inukai says. 

Masato continues with, “Fake, and unrealistic,” and looks back just in time to see Inukai burst into laughter.

It’s weird. For a rare few moments, everything about Inukai lines up. Masato can feel his amused delight, just like he can see it painted across Inukai’s expression, and he’s spent so long only getting fragments and pieces of Inukai that seeing him whole is strange. 

“That’s me,” Inukai says, smirking. “Fake and unrealistic. Like something out of your fantasies, right?”

His voice drops low at the end of his words, and the twist of annoyance and arousal that Masato feels basically come hand in hand now. It’s Inukai. If he didn’t do and say shit that made Masato feel torn between punching him and kissing him, Masato would probably be worried.

Not that he would ever worry about Inukai.

Ugh.

Inukai goes back to finishing his makeup, and Masato goes back to idly staring. Then, he feels weird for staring so much; it’s one thing to know that Inukai is stupidly attractive, and another to be so obvious about it. He’s never been a starer before. Masato loves nothing more than keeping to himself, and minding his own business.

It’s infuriating and unfair for Inukai fucking Sumiharu of all people to be the exception to the rule. Of all people.

_ Ugh. _

Masato pulls his attention away from Inukai and pulls out his phone. 

He spends a few minutes scrolling through Twitter before remembering that Twitter is thoroughly mind-numbing, and then decides to text Arafune instead. It’s the right decision.

They get into a heated discussion about where they should get dinner tonight, and who they should invite, and whether they should go to a karaoke bar afterwards. Masato gets so engrossed in the pros and cons of karaoke on a weekday night (pros: it won’t be busy, it’s cheaper rates than on the weekend, cons: they have school tomorrow, they’re all underage) that the time slips by without him noticing. He’s not paying attention to Inukai or his makeup.

He must’ve finished up at some point while Masato was texting, however, because when Masato finally gets the sense that it’s been a weirdly long amount of time since anybody has said anything and looks up, Inukai is standing in front of him.

Masato doesn’t jump, but he does admit that… well… Inukai had snuck up on him. Just a little. Huh.

Inukai’s holding his hands behind his back. His eyes are intense as they stare at Masato, and he’s throwing off cloud of emotions that Masato can’t even  _ begin  _ to start parsing apart. It’s a confusing and contradictory and overwhelming mass of feelings, and Masato finds himself edging back on the counter, slouching against the mirrors, away from Inukai’s radiator-hot heart.

Inukai bites his lip, and says, “Kageura, I’m in love with you.”

Masato stares at him.

Inukai’s jaw is set, mouth thinned into a determined line and eyes blazing. The bundle of feelings coming off of him only seems to grow stronger, until it feels like it’s filling the room and there’s absolutely nowhere for Masato to hide.

He keeps staring.

As he does, the emotions in the room become tinged with something frantic and biting.  _ Panic, _ Masato realizes. It’s panic.

Inukai bites his lip again. Masato notes, distantly, that if he keeps doing that, he’s going to ruin his makeup all over again.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Inukai stammers. “You were the one who said it first!”

_ That _ makes Masato’s brain kick back into function. He manages to pull himself off the mirrors and straighten up, indignance running through his veins.

“What?” he snaps. “I did  _ not,” _

Inukai’s mouth drops open. “Yes you fucking did!” he responds, and the room lights up with annoyance. “I put your dick in my mouth and you told me you loved me, you asshole!”

A memory awakens in Masato’s mind. Fifteen minutes ago, in the corner of some unused operations room; one of the rare ones with a lock on the door.  _ Reason number four: Masato might kind of be in love with him. _

“Oh,” he croaks. He suddenly can’t look at Inukai. His lips are too red, pursed in irritation. Looking at them makes Masato’s chest stutter, a bit. “I… said that out loud.”

“You sure did,” Inukai snarls, biting at his lip again. More of the red pulls away each time he does it. Is it a nervous tick? Masato can still feel the nervousness and panic in the air, even if the annoyance has mostly overtaken them. 

This is the first time he’s ever felt Inukai be nervous.

It hits Masato how ridiculous that is. Inukai has pushed him against walls and stuck his tongue down Masato’s throat. He’s gotten to his knees in dirty bathrooms and dark corners and gone down on Masato. He’s pointed a gun in Masato’s face and pulled the trigger without hesitation. All of that, and yet this is the first time Masato has ever felt him be nervous. He’s fucking impossible.  _ So _ infuriating. 

Inukai’s kept on talking this entire time, because he never fucking knows when to shut up. Who the fuck confesses their love for somebody and then starts cursing them out a minute later? How is it possible that Inukai is in love with him? Masato is an  _ empath; _ how had he missed that?

Fast, faster than Inukai is because close-contact is Masato’s specialty, he shoots out a hand and clamps it down over Inukai’s mouth. He wonders if he’ll have lipstick on his palm.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “What do you fucking  _ mean _ you’re in love with me?”

Inukai glares at him, and gestures to the hand still over his mouth. Masato, with a bad, bad feeling, removes it.

“What the fuck do  _ you _ mean what do I mean?” Inukai snaps as soon as his mouth is free. “Why the fuck would you question that?”

Masato glares at him, baring his teeth. “I’ve never felt anything like  _ love _ from you before! Where the hell did this come from?”

Inukai has the gall to look offended. This is so fucking ridiculous. Masato can’t believe he’s in love with a person this fucking ridiculous.

“I’ve been in love with you this entire time!” Inukai snaps, throwing his hands up. “I’ve just been waiting for you to catch on!”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Masato yells back, because it doesn’t. “I can feel your emotions, dickhead! You’re always annoyed around me or trying to start shit or horny; you aren’t  _ in love!” _

Inukai stares at Masato as if he’s a massive idiot. Masato is getting the feeling that might be true for the both of them. Why are they even arguing about this? What is it that they’re even arguing over?

Crossing his arms, Inukai smiles thinly and says, “Welcome to being in love, Kageura. What, did you expect flowers and chocolates and serenades?”

In some, faraway, distant way, yes. Never in a context that involved him directly, but Masato always assumed that when he did fall in love somewhere along the line, it would be like that. Flowers and chocolates and serenades. That’s what society always says, after all.

He can’t imagine Inukai doing any of those things. In fact, he doesn’t even want to try. Inukai’s not like that. 

Honestly, neither is Masato. 

Just like that, it all clicks into place.

God, Inukai is fucking  _ infuriating. _ Of course he’s been in love this entire fucking time. Probably, so has Masato. Fuck.  _ Fuck. _

“Why can’t you ever be normal?” Masato groans, hiding his hands in his face.

Inukai snorts. “You’re the one who just tried to  _ fight me _ about my  _ own feelings,” _ he points out dryly, which is fair. Inukai’s surprisingly smart sometimes. A lot of the time. The problem with Inukai is that he’s kind of an amazing guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s only on the surface. Underneath it, he’s so fucking rotten.

Masato likes it like that.

Masato really likes him like that.

_ Fuck. _

“I hate you,” he mumbles. 

“You hate the guy who just swallowed your cum?” Inukai asks, because he’s the worst fucking person alive. All of Masato’s self-control flees from the battlefield, and he lashes out with a foot.

He manages to catch Inukai with the blow, kicking him in the side. Inukai laughs, dancing away in the bathroom. At some point during the conversation, escaping Masato’s notice, the tension in the room had lifted. All of that panic that had swallowed them both up has dissipated, and in its place, it’s just the usual mix of lust-annoyance-delight-competition he gets from Inukai. The one he’s been feeling this entire time. 

The one he returns, in full, towards Inukai. It’s probably a good thing the guy can’t feel emotions. He’s got enough ammo against Masato as it is. Inukai, and in fact  _ nobody, _ needs to know how much Masato might be in love.


End file.
